


Flowers Grow In My Chest

by LostCryptid



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Crying, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt, Illnesses, M/M, Peter Lukas Being an Asshole, Pining, Trans Michael Shelley, Unrequited Love(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25547989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostCryptid/pseuds/LostCryptid
Summary: 5 Times Michael Shelley coughed up Flowers and 1 Time where the Distortion tried to rip them out of its throat
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 103





	Flowers Grow In My Chest

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this made me sad :(

The first time Michael Shelley met Gerard Keay, he had no idea what this encounter would bring with it.

Michael was to busy berating himself for running into the man and dropping all the files he had been carrying. He really hoped that he didn’t mess up Mrs Robinson’s order to bad. He didn’t want to disappoint her, and he definitely didn’t want to give her any more work.

“Oh my….I, I’m so sorry.”

Michael scrambled to get back up on his feet after their run-in had lead to him falling flat onto his bum.

“No, I’m sorry, should’ve looked where I’m walking.”

The tall (and a little bit intimidating if Michael was honest) goth that Michael had so rudely bumped into held his hand out. Unlike Michael, he hadn’t ended up on the floor, but unlike Michael, he was also built like a small brick wall.

Michael could feel his ears turn pink when he grabbed the others hand and let himself get pulled up in one smooth motion. As it turned out, the man was shorter than Michael, but that was unsurprising considering that Michael rarely met anyone who could top his 6’5”.

“No, no I shouldn’t run in the Archives in the first place, thank you though, for helping me up I mean.” Michael stammered, pushing a stray curl behind his ear in the absence of anything else to do with his hands. 

He just had run because it had already taken him so long to gather the files and he hadn’t wanted Mrs Robinson to wait any longer for him, but that was no excuse.

“How about we’re both sorry and vow to be more careful in the future?”, the man suggested with a lopsided smile, making Michael chuckle softly.

“I...yeah sure.”, he agreed weakly, fidgeting slightly, looking away from the others face to the ground.

He couldn’t suppress the sigh that escaped him when he looked at the papers strewn all over the floor—what a chaos.

“Do you want some help with that?”, the question startled Michael back out of his thoughts and into reality where the man still stood in front of him.

“Oh, no, uh I mean I wouldn’t want to keep you. I’m sure you have more important things to do?”

The man laughed, and Michael was sure that he blushed some more.

“Just let me help, okay? Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t have the time.”

“Ah...I okay, thank you.” Michael managed to bring out and kneeled down to pick up the documents. He quickly got joined by the goth.

“No problem, Gertrude only expects me in 10 anyway.”

Michael perked up at that.

“You know Mrs Robinson?”, he questioned.

“Yeah, I work for her sometimes. At least sort of? You could probably call it a Freelance Researcher.”

The wry smile that Michael got made it seem like an inside joke that Michael couldn’t understand even though he was supposed too.

“Oh.”, he just made and tried to remember if Mrs Robinson had mentioned a Freelance Researcher, but he couldn’t come up with anything.

“And you...are one of her Assistants I assume?”

Michael realised that he had completely forgotten to introduce himself.

“I, sorry, yes, I’m Michael one of her Archival Assistants.”, he said, placing the papers back into their hopefully correct folders.

“Gerard.” The man, no Gerard replied and offered Michael the rest of his papers with a smile.

“Are you on your way to her?” Gerry asked, and Michael nodded slowly.

“Great, mind if I come with you? That way, I can take some blame for that.”, he added, pointing at the messed up folders.

Michael shook his head.

“No, uh of course not, but you don’t have too. Take the blame I mean, you also obviously don’t have to come with me, but you asked, so I assume you want too?”

Gerard chuckled again.

“Just lead the way okay?”, he sounded amused.

“Sure, yes, that way.”

Michael Shelley had no idea about the seed this chance meeting had planted inside him.

After that first faithful meeting, Michael kept on bumping into Gerard, albeit not as literally.

It was nice, Gerry as he had been told to call him after a while, was not half as intimidating as he looked and Michael enjoyed having him around.

It was great to have someone close to his own age around or that was what Michael told himself, ignoring the feelings that decided to grow inside of him.

Ignoring the seed that took root, burrowing its roots deep into the soft tissue of Michael’s lungs.

Every time Gerry stopped by to meet up with Gertrude he made a small detour to drop by and at least say hello to Michael or if the time allowed for it stay longer and help if the opportunity arose. And no matter how hard Michael tried, he was unable to squish the butterflies that started fluttering around when he heard the telltale sound of Gerry’s boots approaching his room.

Sometimes Gerry just flopped down in a chair and watched Michael work while he waited for Gertrude or used it to spin in circles out of boredom until Michael asked him to stop, which didn’t happen very often if he was honest.

Now and then the looks Gerry gave him turned quizzical as if he was trying to figure something out which always lead to Michael fumbling and blushing when he noticed. He wasn’t used to so much attention, but a part of him enjoyed it, liked the intense gaze of Gerry’s dark eyes directed at himself.

And the seed inside of Michael’s lungs started to grow and with each new “Hello, Michael?” and “Oh do you want help with that?” it grew further, forming leaves and stems and flower buds.

Michael had noticed that Gerry was handsome the first time they had met, but the more time they spent together, the more he saw all the small details that made Gerry beautiful. 

Like the dimples that formed when he smiled or the way, Gerry furrowed his eyebrows when he concentrated.

The way Gerry bit his lip and played with the silver ring there when he thought about something, unaware (hopefully) how absolutely crazy it drove Michael whenever he did so.

Gerry’s long fingers with the eye tattoos that rarely seemed to sit still, always tapping or playing around with whatever item nearby. Michael wanted to trace those little eyes with his fingers and slip his own between Gerry’s to hold his hand. 

He wanted to those fingers carding through his hair (and may have them pull on it a little). He wanted those fingers on his skin and those lips on his own.

And he kind of wanted to paint Gerry’s nails to fix the cracking paint job.

“Michael?”

The fingers that Michael had just fantasised about snapped in front of his face, ripping him out of his head and back into the here and now where Gerry looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Michael could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Ah welcome back, thought we might have lost you for a moment.”, Gerry said with a grin.

“Ah, sorry.”

“No worries just wanted to let you know that I have to leave now.”

“Oh, okay, see you soon then?”

“Yep, see you soon.” Gerry replied, ruffling through Michael’s hair before he left.

Michael could only bury his face in his hands and groan after the door fell into its lock.

And the flowers in his chest bloomed.

**1: Denial I White Carnations & Blue Salvia**

The first time it happened was just after Gerry had left after bringing him a cup of tea. He had stopped by for a quick hello before going home. It was getting late, and Michael was also planning on finishing up soon so he could leave. He just wanted to finish this one last thing, because he knew that it would haunt him otherwise.

His chest had been aching for around a week now, and at first, he had blamed it on muscle cramps, or old binder ached, but when the pain had settled in his lungs, he just assumed that he was catching a cold.

When the cough had started yesterday, he only felt that his assumption had been confirmed. It hadn’t been bad enough that he felt like it warranted a stay at home, so he had simply come to work today but was careful to keep his distance from his colleagues.

Except for Gerry, mainly because the other had just barged into his office again and after his warning had only shrugged and said that he didn’t care. He hadn’t stayed long anyway. Only long enough to say hello and bring him the cup of tea after Michael had told him about his cough.

So when Michael started coughing again he didn’t worry, only when the coughing turned into hacking and blood sprinkled his hand, he realised that something was seriously wrong. It hurt, and it started to feel like he was unable to breathe, and Michael was starting to panic.

He clawed at his neck, desperate for anything that would make it stop and would allow him to breath again.

A weird ripping sensation inside his chest made him gasp, and it felt like something inside of him dislodged and came loose, giving him some temporary relief before the next cough made petals tumble from his lips.

Michael could only stare at them, wide-eyed and stunned, trying to comprehend what was happening.

He had heard of this, of course, he had, the disease that made flowers grow inside your lungs. But that’s what it was, a story, something you read about, not something you actually got.

It was something so rare that doctors still didn’t quite understand what it was or why some people got it, and others didn’t. The only similarity between the victims being the fact that they had unrequited feelings, but not everyone with an unrequited love got it; otherwise, it wouldn’t be such a rare occurrence.

And that was the next point why this couldn’t happen. Michael wasn’t unhappily in love. He couldn’t be, he would have noticed, right? Sure he had a crush on Gerry, but he couldn’t actually be in _ love  _ with him, could he?

More coughing followed, bringing entire flowers with it this time, splattering carelessly on Michaels table when he helplessly wrapped his arms around himself. They laid there accusingly, calling him a liar and making it clear that he was indeed very much in love with one Gerard Keay.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that the flowers would just disappear, turning it into a bad dream. But the picture of the white and blue blooms stained with his blood had burned itself into his mind, and no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t escape the truth.

The cough had stopped for now, but the flowers and the blood remained on his table, and Michael couldn’t deny it any longer when he opened his eyes again. 

Flowers were growing in his lungs, and they would continue to do so for as long as he kept loving Gerry.

Michael winced when he looked at the flowers, white carnations and some sort of salvia he assumed, before burrowing his face in his hands.

He still couldn’t believe this was happening.

  
  
  


**2: Anger I Petunias & Daffodils **

The next time it occurred, it lead to Michael sprinting out of his office as soon as he noticed the need to cough, leaving a perplexed Gerry behind. He barely managed to lock the door of the cubicle behind him before he dissolved into a coughing fit.

He leaned over the toilet and resisted to urge to squeeze his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see the blood sprinkling the white porcelain with red dots. Trying to close his eyes from the truth hadn’t worked the last time, and this time would be no different.

Whatever grew in his lungs seemed bigger this time. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes when they forced their way up his throat until yellow petals, tinted red from the blood fell down into the toilet bowl. Soon they were followed by entire daffodil blossoms, splashing when they hit the water.

But this wasn’t the end, and Michael whimpered when he realised that there was more. Something was still lodged down his throat, the beginning, or was it the end? brushing against his tongue. 

It made him want to gag.

Michael took a stuttering breath before closing his eyes and opening his mouth. Carefully he pushed his fingers in, feeling for the tendril hee felt against his tongue.

Another stuttering breath followed when he managed to grab the stem? Vine? He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t like it mattered. Michael braced his hand against the tiled wall before he started to pull.

It hurt, but he managed to pull the plant inch by agonising inch out of his lungs, only interrupted by his coughs, but those actually helped in this case.

Tears brimmed in his eyes and threatened to spill over by the time the vine finally pulled free and flopped into the bowl. Michael whimpered once more and let go of the plant before slowly opened his eyes again to look at it.

Petunias, the kind of Petunias that produced vines, the same plant that had grown in the hanging basket on the balcony of his childhood home. Now they were growing in his lungs, and it felt like they were mocking him, lying there splattered with his blood.

Michael laughed, it was wet and wheezing, and it brought the taste of iron back into his mouth. The hand that he had placed against the wall was shaking, and it was hard to get his bearings back. Michael wiped over his mouth, trying to get rid of any blood or spit or petals that might still cling to his lips before he flushed the toilet, watching how the water carried away blood and flowers.

He took a deep breath and sighed, taking a moment to gather himself before he unlocked the door before he went to the sinks to wash his hands. His reflection in the mirror looked pale and exhausted, and Michael pinched his cheeks lightly to bring some colour back into his face. He hoped that no one would notice or at least not comment on it.

“Michael!”

Michael jumped and turned around, staring at Gerry with big eyes. He hadn’t heard, had he? Thankfully, it seemed like he had only just arrived.

“I… you just ran out and then you didn’t come back, and I got worried. Are you okay?”

Michael blinked, still staring at Gerry.

“Yeah, sure… I’m good.” His voice sounded rough, but at least it was steady. But one thing was sure; he wasn’t good, he wasn’t even okay.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound too good.”

Michael furrowed his brows, Gerry sounded worried, and a small irrational part of him got angry about it. The reason for his current predicament had no right to be this worried about him.

“I’m fine.”, he snapped and immediately regretted it when he saw Gerry flinch at his tone. There was hurt flashing through Gerry’s eyes, and Michael’s anger was gone a quick as it had come.

“I….shit, I’m sorry. I - I shouldn’t have snapped at you, it’s not your fault. It - I just…” Michael rubbed over his face, shoulders slumping. It wasn’t Gerry’s fault that Michael had fallen for him. It wasn’t like he had ripped open Michael’s ribcage and planted those seeds inside of him.

“There’s just… a lot going on right now and I don’t even know how to deal with half of it, but that’s no excuse to let it out on you, and I’m sorry.”

If there was someone, he should be angry at then it was probably himself for falling in love so easily.

“It’s… It’s fine.”, Gerry replied, apparently as taken aback by Michael apology as he had been by him lashing out in the first place.

“Maybe I’m not the best person for that, but if you need someone to talk?”, Gerry sounded uncharacteristically uncertain.

Michael chuckled weakly.

“Thank you, but I’m not sure if I even can.”

The look that Gerry gave him was inquiring, but he didn’t push further, and Michael was grateful for that.

“Let’s go back?” he suggested carefully, waiting for Gerry to nod and turn around before he followed him.

“Michael?”

“Hmm?”

“I won’t ask any more questions, but if someone were threatening you, you would tell me, right?”

The surprise on Michael’s face seemed to make Gerry relax a little bit, and Michael smiled. The first real smile after the original flower incident.

“Of course.”, he agreed easily enough and Michael wished that it was that easy. But no one was threatening him except for his own feelings, and Gerry couldn’t fight those.

**3: Bargaining I Red Columbine & White Violets**

The third time came when Michael was out to grab some lunch, and he managed to hurry into a deserted alleyway just before he got wrecked by coughs once more.

He leaned against the brick wall and slowly let himself sink down until he sat on the ground. His head, hanging between his knees and his arms wrapped around himself.

Michael just wanted this to be over as quick as possible, and he hoped there wasn’t another vine involved this time.

His lungs had started to hurt more after a second time, settling on a constant dull throb after a while. A dull throb that now flared up with each cough, sending pain shooting through his chest and up his throat.

Michael pressed his hands against his chest, a useless gesture that wasn’t helping at all.

The next cough resulted in the now familiar feeling of something giving inside of his lungs, and a part of Michael wondered if it was him giving in, tissue ripping to relief the pain and only making it worse or if it were roots that lost their grip on him. He hoped for the latter, but he feared that it was the first.

The following cough made him tear up, accompanied by him hacking up flowers. Pink ones this time Michael registered absentmindedly. No that was wrong, they were white, the petals had just soaked up the blood, turning them a deceptively soft pink.

At least they were small this time.

The next wave of coughs hit, and Michael squeezed himself tighter, tears stung in his eyes as more flowers dropped on the ground, more discoloured white blossoms this time joined by red petals.

Maybe he should just tell Gerry. It could hardly make it any worse, right? Perhaps it would even help. He would only need to find the courage to tell him. He should be able to do that much.

But he also didn’t want to bother Gerry with his feelings or worse: make him feel guilty.

More coughs shook Michaels body.

It was probably too late anyway. Even if by some miracle Gerry suddenly would return his feelings. Michael was sure that the roots had already left irreversible damage in his lungs and if there was nothing to be done then why should he burden someone else with it.

There was also the option of surgery, but with the disease being so rare Michael didn’t dare to hope too much, and as much as they hurt him, he didn’t want to have his feelings for Gerry cut out of him. His lacklustre research hadn’t helped much with deciding how to proceed and after finding a community that romanticised a potentially deadly illness he had just given up.

Michael bit his lower lip, the coughing slowly subsided, leaving the ground covered with flowers and blood sprinkles. He let his head fall against his knees.

Maybe he should tell Gerry just so he could get some closure. For all, he knew Gerry might not even be interested in men, or if he was, he might be put off by the entire trans thing. Wouldn’t be the first time it happened after all.

If Gerry would end up disgusted by him, then his feelings might at least not hurt anyone besides himself.

But Gerry was so lovely, so Michael doubted, he hoped that Gerry wouldn’t be another one of those that made him feel terrible for the way he simply was. He just couldn’t be.

Michael sighed and pushed himself up. He should hurry and get back to the institute before Mrs Robinson could wonder where he might be. His lunch break was nearly over, and he couldn’t really tell her that he was back late because he had been busy coughing up violets and whatever those red flowers were.

He hadn’t gotten any food, but after this, any appetite that Michael had had was gone, and the lingering taste of blood in his mouth did the rest to make sure that he wouldn’t be able to get anything down.

Might as well go back in that case and check if Mrs Robinson needed help with anything and if he met Gerry on the way he might just tell him too.

Michael didn’t meet Gerry, and when he saw him again a week later, he didn’t tell him either.

**4: Depression I Anemones & Cyclamen**

The fourth time was early on a Friday morning, just before Michael had to leave for work. He sent Rosie a message calling in sick, before simply flopped down in the hallway before his front door.

He felt too exhausted to deal with another coughing attack and work at the same time. A part of Michael felt bad about leaving Mrs Robinson alone, but it wasn’t like he was the only Archival Assistant. So it should be fine if he wasn’t there for one day. She would be fine and so would he, hopefully.

The coughs took their time this time, sitting in the back of his throat as if they were waiting for something.

So far, Michael had never cried during his coughing attacks. No matter how much the tears had stung in his eyes, but this time, behind locked doors and in the relative safety of his own home he gave in.

He couldn’t hold them back anymore, and tears started to drip from his eyes, rolling over his cheeks until they dropped from his chin. Soon his body got wrecked by sobs that quickly got joined by coughs.

Michael felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore, he simply wasn’t able to get enough air in between sobbing and coughing. He clawed helplessly at his arms, trying to suppress the panic that bubbled up inside of him. He didn’t want to die.

By the time the first petals ended up in his mouth, Michael had managed to scratch himself bloody. At least breathing became a bit easier after that, and he didn’t feel like he was suffocating anymore. Something must’ve dislodged inside his lungs, but it didn’t stop him from shaking, and it didn’t stop the tears.

Neither did it stop the flowers that dropped from his lips, landing in his lap where they left red stains on his trousers. Michael couldn’t bring himself to care. He hiccuped, he couldn’t stop crying, but his sobs started to calm down a bit.

He softened the grip of his fingers on his arms, wincing at the burn of the scratched he had left behind. Using the sleeve of his carding Michael wiped over his face, but more coughing brought more tears, flowers and blood, so he quickly gave up.

Michael pushed himself up on wobbly legs to stagger to his bathroom. He couldn’t do anything except wait for it to be over, so he might as well do it somewhere were the resulting mess would be easy to clean.

He leant on his sink, fingers grasping the white porcelain tightly to keep them from shaking and waited for the next attack to hit. His grip tightened when it did, to a point where his knuckles turned white. Michael could only watch the flowers splatting into his sink, accompanied by a nauseating wet sound when they hit the porcelain. Anemones and Alpine Violets and blood mixed together.

He was exhausted, and Michael’s sight swam in front of his eyes, and it wasn’t merely due to the tears clouding his vision. He was swaying, and dizziness settled over him, this couldn’t be good.

Michael let go of the sink and staggered out of the bathroom, cleaning could wait until later. He nearly tripped over his own feet but managed to grab a water bottle from the kitchen before stumbling into his bedroom.

Michael haphazardly shrugged out of his clothes before dropping face-first onto his bed, too drained to bother with pyjamas.

His phone pinged, and for a moment he was tempted to simply hurl it across the room, against the wall. He decided against it. His mobile was hardly at fault for his mood, or the general situation and phones were expensive.

So Michael only sighed and moved enough that he could grab his phone from his clothes pile so he could check if it was something important.

It was a text from an unknown number, and Michael hesitated for a moment before he tapped on it to open it.

Hey, it’s Gerry

Gertrude told me you were sick so I pestered one of your colleagues for your number

I hope that was okay?

Just wanted to check in with you to see if you’re still kicking.

For a moment it felt like Michaels heart just stopped before it picked back up and started to race in his chest. He made a choked of sound and let his phone drop. Gerry caring about him shouldn’t be such a huge thing, but it certainly wasn’t good for his heart.

Michael gave his phone one last glance before he turned around, wrapping himself in his blankets until only his nose peeked out, leaving Gerry on read. He couldn’t deal with this today.

Tomorrow he would save Gerry’s number and reply to him.

Maybe.

**5: Acceptance I Forget-Me-Nots & Sweet Pea**

The fifth time Michael was on a ship and on his way to Zemlya Sannikova. It was cold and icy wind was biting his nose and ears.

They were getting close, Mrs Robinson had said earlier before she had shooed him off so he would stop fussing over her. Michael had left reluctantly, and only after she had accepted his wool scarf. He didn’t want her to catch a cold or something worse on his trip.

Frankly, he found it a bit irresponsible to send an old lady on a journey like this, but Mrs Robinson had told him that it was important and he believed her. If she thought that it was necessary, then he wouldn’t doubt her judgement.

After she sent him off, Michael had drifted aimlessly across the empty deck until he ended up at the railing at the rear end of the ship. His shoulders pulled up to his ears and shivering. 

Over the last few weeks, the ache in his chest had turned into a dull, painful pressure from the inside of his lungs. If felt like the flowers were keen on busting out of ribcage and he wondered, not for the first time if that was actually possible. The idea sounded strangely beautiful to him, which was worrying in and off itself.

Michael sighed and scrunched up his nose, tugging his coat closer around himself, during the last days on the Tundra he had come to a decision. He would tell Gerry as soon as he would be back and if Gerry wouldn’t, by some miracle, return his unrequited feelings, then he would make an appointment for the surgery.

It was going to be fine one way or the other, and if it wasn’t, then he had accepted that too.

It surprised Michael how calm he actually felt, and even when the coughs came the same calmness remained. This time didn’t even hurt as much.

They still shook his body, and he let go of his coat so he could wrap his fingers around the ice-cold railing, his body hunching forward leaning over it.

The first petals cam and tumbled down, fluttering into the dark water, where they vanished without a trace.

Petals turned into blossoms and blossoms turned into entire flowers that got swallowed by the Arctic Sea. Forget-Me-Nots, something Michael would have found ironic if he wasn’t too busy coughing his lungs out, with some other plant wound around the stems. Michael knew those also, or at least had seen them before but currently couldn’t remember their name.

His chest ached, and another coughing fit him. He closed his eyes. He could do this. He only needed to hold out and make it back home then it would be okay.

The coughs slowly subsided, and Michael wiped the blood from his lips.

“Quite lonely, the feeling of unrequited love, isn’t’ it?”

Michael startled and whipped around, staring at the man behind him. Peter Lukas had been pretty much absent the entirety of the trip, so Michael had no clue where he suddenly came from. The shock on his face turned into defiance.

“I’m not lonely.”, Michael snapped, and Peter raised an eyebrow.

“You aren’t?”, he asked, amused, and Michael huffed irritated.

“No, I’m not.”

It was a lie, one that he had told himself way too often, but Peter didn’t need to know that. Michael straightened himself and pushed past Peter to get back to the main deck.

“Wonder why it’s killing you then.”

“Wha..?!”

Michael’s head snapped back around, but Peter was gone and the only thing that remained where the silver tendrils of fog that curled over the deck. A cold shiver ran down Michael’s spine, and he wrapped his arms around himself before hurrying back.

He could’ve sworn that there was pity in Mrs Robinson’s eyes when he returned to her side, but he must’ve been mistaken because it was gone as soon as he thought so. Besides, there was no way she could’ve known, or so Michael told himself.

There was also no pity in her eyes when she lead him to the yellow door, and there was no pity when she handed him that impossible map and told him to go, and Michael did. Terror clutched him, and he could feel himself shaking, but he pushed open the door and walked in.

And Michael Shelley stopped being, and Michael became.

**+1: Spiral I Mock Orange & Snapdragons**

The Distortion didn’t need to breathe; therefore, it couldn’t care less about flowers growing in it’s chest. They hurt sure but not more than existing, in general, did for something that was never meant to be.

What was a bit more irritating as that some of Michael Shelley’s feelings had carried over and it wasn’t talking about wanting revenge, that one was interwoven enough with its general ‘self’ that it couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. No, it was talking about that weird fondness of Gerard Keay, about that need to be close and need to see him.

It was weird, and Michael was pretty sure that it wasn’t supposed to feel that way. Not that it felt exactly like a human would, it was certainly different from what Michael Shelley had experienced, but it was irritating nonetheless.

Pesky little human feelings.

So when something tickled in the back of it’s throat, it glitched in annoyance, but the flowers that still grew inside of it followed the rules of reality as much as Michael itself did. Which wasn’t very much, so there was no way to glitch them out of its ‘lungs’ or to twist away from them which only resulted in more irritation on its side. 

The hallways around it changed rapidly, colour melting from the walls only to be replaced by the next eye-watering pattern, corridors twisting from one impossible constellation into the next while Michael tried to deal with the feelings he wasn’t supposed to feel. Doors popped open in various places, leading people to their demise. Their fear helped a bit to calm Michael down, as calm as a being of madness could be anyway.

The tickling in the back of its throat was still there, and Michael was tempted to just dissolve into the next fit. But that hadn’t helped the first time so it wouldn’t the second. Instead, it slipped its fingers into his throat, no need to cut if it could simply decide that his throat wasn’t existing at this moment while still existing enough to grab something in it.

Long fingers wrapped around impossible flowers and tugged, pulling out blossoms and stems and leaves until the floor of the hallways was littered with them and until it should’ve been impossible to have any more flowers growing inside of it.

But the Distortion dealt with impossibilities and Michael could already feel more growing inside itself, and it realised with a shocking clarity that ripping out the flowers was as impossible as getting rid of the human emotions it was experiencing, The scream that tore out of its throat echoed through the hallways, fractaling and spiralling, filled with a mix of anger and distress.

If the Distortions victims hadn’t been afraid before, then they sure were now. Michael could feel them but couldn’t bring itself to care about them, or their panicked attempts at getting out that got more frantic with each passing minute.

Michael was currently closer to resembling a puddle or an uncaringly discarded pile of clothes than anything remotely resembling a human. It was not happy. Not that the Distortion could be happy in the first place, but right now it was far as possible from what would count as happy for it.

Only slowly it pulled itself back together into something more humanoid. It picked up one of the ripped up flowers twirling it between its fingers, watching it shift from one type of flower to the next. From white flowers resembling orange blossoms before twisting into orange snapdragons and then into something that was neither and both at the same time.

Maybe it should pay Gerry a visit. It wouldn’t be able to hurt him, alone the thought made it so distressed that Michael wished it would’ve never thought about it in the first place. But maybe seeing Gerry would help with the overall unpleasant experience of feeling.

It could even bring flowers, there were enough on the ground after all. And humans liked flowers, right? Michael Shelley at least had.

Michael grabbed a few of the evershifting plants before it pushed through one of its doors.

It was time for a visit, finding Gerry shouldn’t be hard, Michael already knew where he lived. The knowledge had been there from the start, just sitting at the edge of its consciousness and now was the time to use it.

**Author's Note:**

> Further Information from my Notes that hasn't actually made it (explicitly) into the story:  
> \- Hanahaki is actually a manifestation of the Lonely so only people who are already touched by it can get it (thus it's pretty rare(ish))  
> \- That's why Peter knew and decided to bother Michael a bit  
> \- Gertrude knew that Michael was sick and she knew what it was  
> \- She also knew that it would kill him (Surgery wouldn't have helped Michael's lungs were already to messed up)  
> \- Could she have stopped it if she intervened at the beginning? Probably  
> \- Gerry does like Michael, it's more of a small crush instead of full-blown feelings like it's for Michael, but the tall pretty Archival Assistant certainly makes Gerry's heart skip a beat  
> \- Gerry also couldn't care less about Michael being trans than: ah well good to know if anyone ever gives you shit 'bout it tell me  
> \- Which big improvement to a lot of encounters Michael had in his life  
> \- Gerry neither knew about Michaels feelings nor about the flowers (he had a few suspicions about Michael not being okay tho)  
> \- Gertrude also never told him what exactly happened in Sannikova  
> \- The Distortion still loves Gerry and it's also is very confused and does not know what love feels like  
> \- Gerry is a Monsterfucker so given a bit of time that might work out  
> \- And the Flower meanings I went with if anyone is interested:
> 
> \- White Carnation: Pure Love/ Innocence  
> \- Blue Salvia: I think of you  
> \- Daffodils: Unrequited Love (and given as a single one also Misfortune)  
> \- Petunias: Anger  
> \- Red Columbine: Anxious and Trembling (also Red Flowers stand for Courage)  
> \- White Violets: Take a Chance on Happiness  
> \- Cyclamen/Alpine Violets: Resignation  
> \- Anemones: Forsaken  
> \- Forget-Me-Nots: Don't forget me/ True Love Memory  
> \- Sweet Pea: Good Bye and Departure  
> \- Mock Orange: Deceit  
> \- Snapdragons: Deception
> 
> Lots of them also have other meanings but this is why I choose them  
> A lot of them are also poisonous which wasn't planned but is nice nonetheless
> 
> At this point also a big shout out to Tabs who was nice enough to beta for me!  
> Thanks for suffering through this


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